


To burn a heart out

by Neilicca



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 16:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5833315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neilicca/pseuds/Neilicca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Pain does not weaken me. Mere sentiment has no effect on me. How do you think I made my way up here?"</p><p>"If you know nothing of passion, you know nothing of order."</p><p>This is the story of two very different men, of passion and ambition, and of desperation and failure. It'll follow the events of Episode VII from the First Order command deck and dive inside the mind of a man who is capable of killing millions without batting an eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Invisible

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read my fic! I work hard to make it worth your while. (More or less. Sometimes my own sentimentality gets in the way. In other words, I'm no General Hux.)
> 
> All reviews are appreciated! And yes, that includes constructive criticism.. In fact, especially constructive criticism!
> 
> I got a headache trying to figure out how the chain of command works at the Starkiller. You'd think the first order was a bit more.. orderly? Also, oh my god, I feel so embarrassed; I totally accidentally deleted a big-ish chunk from the middle of "torment". It's now been reinstated, but I'm sincerely sorry for anyone who had to read it as it was.
> 
> I do not own Star Wars. Duh.
> 
> I'd also like to thank my parents for raising me and pray for their forgiveness for turning out to be shipper trash.
> 
> \- Neilicca

 

  _O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;_

_It is the green-ey'd monster,_

_which doth mock_

_the meat it feeds on_

* * *

He had very delicate hands for a man, especially for a general. He observed them in the harsh light of a nearby sun, lost in idle thought for the first time in days. The long, pale fingers made a peculiar dance as they moved through the air, aimlessly. Beautifully, faintly, like servants to his irrational whims.

The general dreaded them. In fact, he sought to wear the black leather gloves that came with his uniform at all times. Not that he believed his delicate hands or boyish freckles would make him any worse of a leader. He was very confident in his abilities, and had always been. There was something in him, resonating from his posture and eyes, his voice. Something, that made people listen to him, something, that made his word superior to an individual's sentimental will. As if he was born to be a leader, and others were born to follow.

No, he was not made insecure by his looks. However, acknowledging these flaws made him even stronger. His delicate hands made him appear subtle when he was giving harsh commands - his freckles made him seem less of a threat in the eyes of his competitors. He knew how people were going to perceive him, and could use that knowledge to his own advantage.

Indeed, the general took pride in how every aspect of him worked like a machine. A machine made to rule and bring order. There was only one power that was out of his reach, no matter how hard he tried.

The delicate waltz of his hands ceased. He clenched his fingers tightly around an imaginary object, as if he was trying to break it. A subtle wrinkle appeared on the general's forehead as his grip tightened. After a second he let out a sigh and let his hand drop. He knew he could never possess the force, and therefore he could never be in absolute power.

It was a sick twist of fate. The man who had all the attributes to become a great leader lacked the one ability most cherished by those in power. And, out of all people, that sickly, petulant boy had made his way up with no other virtue than an absurd cult force.

The force had nothing do with prevalence, order or prosperity in his opinion. The emphasis put on it was nothing more than Snoke's religious sentimentality. And if there was one thing the general hated, it was sentimentality.

"General Hux?" a barely polite, sharp female voice interrupted the general's thoughts. He snapped imperceptibly and had to collect himself for a split second, as Captain Phasma marched inside his quarters with two swift steps.

"Yes?" he raised his eyebrows.

"I'm sorry to bother you on such a late hour, sir. The Supreme Leader wishes to have a word with you", Phasma said.

"Speaking of the devil", the general sighed by himself, and could almost sense Phasma raising an eyebrow under her silver helmet.

"Excuse me, sir?" she asked.

"Very well", Hux said and stood up. He knew Phasma had heard him, and was also one of the few people inclined to ask questions here. However, he also knew she had full respect for his authority and was unlikely to go against it without a heavy reason.

"Escort me to him", he commanded swiftly.

The tall captain seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then turned around and opened the quarters' doors once more.

* * *

The communications centre was more like a temple than a reasonable room for leaders of the Order to discuss. It was an enormous, empty hall with a podium in the middle, in which the Supreme Leader projected himself like a giant deity for them to worship. Kylo Ren himself had asked for its construction, and the general was certain the bizarre structure had something to do with their cult.

Hux felt small as he strode forward to the platform to receive the Supreme Leader's call. A familiar, slender figure stood there already, and as always, did not turn to greet him.

The general clinched his fist, now covered in black leather, to hide any annoyance from his voice.

"Ren."

"General."

The knight's voice was deep and monotone.

The men did not change looks. Kylo Ren had his helmet on and stood wide with his hands locked behind his back, yet his posture was off. The contrast between the knight and the composed general was striking. Where Hux was respectful and military, Ren seemed arrogant and tense.

After a few moments of silence, the hologram activated and the giant projection of Supreme Leader Snoke evaluated them from above. Both men kneeled, and Hux waited for the appropriate three seconds before he lift himself up to face his master. Ren, intentionally or not, seemed to rise only once Hux had - which annoyed him greatly. What annoyed him more was that Ren could surely sense this petty emotion.

"Evening, my apprentice. Evening, general", Snoke spoke with a loud, soft voice.

"What is it, Supreme Leader?" Hux asked a little too hastily, as if he was a little too eager to prove himself in front of this grotesque altar. Snoke did not seem to mind the general's lack of courtly words.

"I've received word there's been a disturbance on the Starkiller. Should I expect our plans to divert, general?" he asked so softly Hux had difficulties to read his tone.

Nevertheless, the general felt at ease. It was not in his nature to guess, but based on the most recent orders from the Supreme Leader, Hux had suspected he wanted to alter their plans. Plans, that took him months to mold, mapping out every outcome and possible scheme.

"I would have notified you if there was anything to worry about. It's under control, sir", Hux assured.

Ren shifted restlessly beside him.

"Yes, my apprentice?" Snoke addressed him.

"Master, with all due respect -"

 _Which you have none_ , Hux smirked faintly.

"- with all due respect, we cannot delay our plans any more. This station must be fully functional at all times, and-"

Snoke raised his enormous hand to silence Ren. Hux nervously enhanced his posture and tucked his arms firmly behind his back, but on his freckled face there was no sign of distress.

"You are suggesting the general has made errors in his proceedings, my apprentice?" Snoke tilted his head in apparent leisure, yet his eyes darted towards Hux, who kept his posture, but had to clench his clad hands to reassure himself.

There was a silent click as Kylo Ren removed his mask. His dark hair was messy and his face seemed tired, as if he had not slept for days. However, what bothered Hux the most in the knight's undraped face was his eyes; pitch black, full of anger and passion, free of any sense. Like an animal.

The general had wondered what could have possibly happened to the knight, what could have warped his mind so badly it was nothing more than a bloodhound for their shared cause. Yet he had always arrived at the same conclusion: they, Hux and Ren, had gone through the same for the most part. Whatever difference there was between them it was due to their nature. Where Ren had a master he yielded blindly to, Hux served only those whom he saw fit.

"Yes, master", Ren clinched his jaw and glanced at Hux, who tilted his head upward, stately as always.

"I don't want to hear any more of your delays or mistakes, general", Snoke spoke smoothly, dangerously.

"Sir, I can-" Hux began, but Snoke silenced him like he had silenced Ren before.

"Leave, both of you." he ordered.

The two men bowed as the hologram disappeared, leaving the hall bare and solemn again. Ren promptly hid his tired face under the sloppy, predictable facade his mask offered. They walked without speaking a word. Hux's anger toward the knight was silent, yet he knew the boy could feel it like he was screaming it to his face.

Captain Phasma was dutifully waiting for them in the main corridor, her stance so straight and unwavering she looked like a proud, metallic statue.

"General. Commander." her firm voice addressed them.

"I'll be having a word with the commander, captain. No need to escort us", Hux thought as he spoke, fueled only by his own frustration. Although Ren's tall figure fidgeted next to the general, he did not seem to object.

"Of course, Sir. Sir", Phasma saluted them both respectively and dashed away in the direction of the main battery.


	2. Invincible

_Anger is a momentary madness,_

_so control your passion or it will control you._

* * *

 Their silence was reserved, almost electric, as they made their way through the station. Kylo was tense and agitated, yet he still had not contradicted the general's order and kept but a step behind him. Hux was flustered with anger and the sort of bitter confusion that made one feel almost mentally irrational. He could not wrap his head around the knight's accusations, nor did he have time or any intention to understand them.

Although a knight of Ren was almost equal to the rank of a general in the First Order militia, Hux was the commander in charge of the station. Kylo Ren was nothing more than a political advisory, a puppet to oversee their work was in line with the knights' ideology.

The silent anger grew louder every step they took, and had spread to the general's pale cheeks by the time the two reached command deck.

At this time of their artificial day only a handful of officers were on duty, and to the general's fortune only one young, feeble looking ensign seemed to spot them from the narrow opening between the main deck and the corridor. Before the main deck there were two small, identical conference rooms, of which Hux chose the one on the right.

Kylo Ren stepped in right behind him with no hesitation or change of pace. The door swung close in one smooth sweep, and they were alone.

 _Confined_ , Hux thought.

Hux paced to face a large window at the end of the room, silently drew a few breaths and became overly conscious of the heat on his cheeks. Ren did not move. He stood extraordinarily still in front of the doorway. The silence thickened and lingered, growing louder every second. Now it was the general's turn to become tense, whilst the knight seemed oddly in peace. Although it was hard to tell since one could not see his face.

"Remove your helmet, commander" Hux almost hissed, still looking out to the red, blazing sun.

"General, I don't think it's necessary to-" Ren's mechanic voice sounded tense but amused.

"Remove that fucking helmet!" the general turned around, face red and sweaty, the veins of his forehead visible, his teeth clenched.

The knight seemed to freeze in disbelief. Hux breathed heavily, his enraged eyes charging at him.

Slowly, Ren lifted his arms and grabbed his mask with both of his hands. The helmet depressurized and slid away from the knight's head. Panting, he slammed it on the table between them.

Ren's dark eyes threw a sharp look at the general and as he spoke, the sound came somewhere deep inside.

"Happy, general?" the knight clenched his jaw.

Hux nodded slowly and shifted to regain his posture. He took a few steps towards Ren, who did not break their eye contact. The eyes of a bloodhound, full of anticipation and fury, and the stance of a bloodhound, calm but ready to strike at any given moment. Yet, there was something boyish in his appearance.

A plump lower lip, soft cheeks, downturned eyes. Although he was taller and about the same age as the general, he appeared almost adolescent with his waifish build and clumsy limbs.

"Happy for the fact that you finally took it upon yourself to follow my commands, as you should, _boy_?" Hux lowered his voice as he spoke.

"You have no power over me, _Hux_. There's nothing under your belt except toady words to the right people", Ren smirked.

"I choose to ignore your foolishness, however I will not tolerate your disobedience in front of our master. Do you understand?!" the general hissed. His hand tensely resting on his saber's handle, the knight took two long strides towards him, and they were now only a few feet apart.

"Trust me, _boy_ ", the knight sneered. "I do understand. However, if it has not crossed your megalomaniac little mind, I do not comply", Ren's deep voice cracked and his smirk was that of a maniac.

Suddenly, Hux felt like his head was about to burst into flames and freeze at the same time. He could feel the knight going through his thoughts - he saw his own delicate hands, the daunting nightmares, longing for his mother - and no matter how loud he screamed there seemed to be no avail.

 _Get out of my head you filthy beast_ , he thought as he felt himself fall to his knees, succumbing to the endless stream of pain, failure and disappointment. And then, as quickly as it had started, it was over.

"A dog? Is that what you think of me, general?" Ren made a strained, furious chuckle. His tall figure lingered over Hux, so close his robes almost touched him.

"Is that not what you are?" Hux said silently, with a low, dangerous voice.

He would not let meager memories of pain obstruct his view. He would not let this boy of a man toy with him. Breathing heavily, redden and sweaty, Hux stood up and looked Ren cold in the eye.

"A dog with the collar of a commander." he almost spat in his face.

The two stood still for a while, both afraid to make the first move. The general was protected by his authority, whilst the knight had brute force on his side. They could feel each others' breaths, read every twitch their faces made.

"Lay those sickly hands of yours on me and you're dead, general", the knight's words were a warning, but his dark eyes screamed a dare. As if he was still inside his mind. Maybe he was, or maybe he could sense these feelings Hux desperately tried to tame.

The general's every single cell screamed aggression, his every thought was submerged in fire. Yet those thoughts were clear, for they themselves had no passion.

Without any hustle, without any fury, the general slowly lifted his right hand, and with his left pulled the polished leather gloves off one finger at a time, careful not to break the eye contact. His hand slipped out of the glove, as delicate in the sunlight as it had been before.

"You enjoy this, don't you? You play with anger, you bathe in weakness. Yet what you don't understand-", the general lifted his bare hand to Ren's cheek, his thumb caressing the knight's disproportional lips, "-is that pain does not weaken me. Mere sentiment has no effect on me. How do you think I made my way up here? Brownnosing pretty boys like you?" His voice was quiet, angry, nonchalant.

Ren's eyes darkened with rage and fear, but he did not pull himself away, as Hux had suspected. The knight's fear of losing was stronger than his fear of humiliation. There was something else on his face too - longing, confusion, childish whimper.

Once Hux had had enough of the knight's distress, he withdrew his hand lazily, but left it in the air inches away from his face. With a faint, cold smile, he proceeded to pull it back and then charge it forward full speed.

Ren, flustered by what had just happened, realized what the general was about to do a second too late. His sword arm barely got a grip of the light saber before the general's bare fist hit his face hard, hurling him to the ground. Crimson poured out of his nose, and there was a cut on his right cheekbone. His eyes were on fire, but blurry, as if he couldn't quite concentrate on anything around him.

"You lazer brained motherfucker!" Ren spat out blood as he spoke.

The general promptly pulled his glove back on, walked around the knight and marched through the door. As it slid shut, he could hear a loud bang, as if an invisible canon was fired against the thick metal plate.


	3. Chapter 3

_It is invisible hands that torment and bend us the worst_

* * *

The general did not try to downright avoid Kylo Ren more than usual in the following days, but somehow their paths seemed not to cross. As if they had a mutual agreement not to address each other any more than it was absolutely necessary. The air was thick whenever they had to be near each other, which to the general's relief was not expressly marked by any of their officers.

In all honesty, Hux could not have cared less about this fractious beast. What he did care about, however, was order, discipline and respect. If a word would have got out about the two highest ranking officers' disagreement, the whole foundation of who he was in the eyes of his inferiors, the pedestal which he had constructed for himself, could have crumbled. Even a small crack in that bedrock would've meant years of work going to waste.

Hux had to admit it though, seeing Kylo Ren not remove his facade even in front of the Supreme Leader gave him a perverse kind of pleasure. The moments he had allowed himself idle thought he had almost daydreamed what the knight's face looked like. A broken nose, a visible scar in the cheek, a swollen eye, maybe? Hopefully. Hopefully much, much worse.

However, the general had little to no time for these aversions. On of the hundreds of strings in his web had caught a fly. The message came from Jakku, an unimportant desert planet from the Western Reaches. A puny merchant, loyal only to the Order's generous compensation, had tipped them off to a remote village, where some force worshippers claimed to have a key to Skywalker's whereabouts.

The enormous Star Destroyer felt refreshing. Less officers, troops and personnel meant quicker reaction times to direct commands. The general was almost sorry the chance of engaging in battle was minimal. Nonetheless, after weeks of domestic bureaucracy, planning, mapping and running back and forth to fulfill Snoke's religious whims, commanding the ship was like a breeze of freedom, a shot of prestige to the general's dried up veins.

As night fell to Jakku's Eastern hemisphere, a few highest commanding officers gathered for a briefing in the main hangar's control room. The mission at hand was commissioned by the Knights of Ren and Snoke himself, and therefore tasked for their very own magician to carry out. However, the general was in charge of the ship, mission control, planning and troops. In short, he was the one who talked.

"We have three platoons ready, sir. Two for direct attack, one for backup. However, I believe our best interest is to go small and discrete, not cause too much panic or give intel to the resistance", captain Phasma announced. She had her helmet off, yet her unwavering, defined tone erased any doubts her unusual appearance might have arisen.

"I agree. Tonight we have to be not only discreet, but efficient" the general spoke with a silent, vigorous voice. Some of the officers nodded in agreement.

"That means no time wasted, no bomb ignited and no resident left alive. Am I clear?" he scanned the room, stopping for a split second longer on Ren's dark figure. He stood hauntingly still. Hux felt a sweet rush from the knight's humiliation in his spine.

"Sir, even the children? What about the Stormtrooper program-" young lieutenant Mitaka objected.

Hux tilted his head slowly to face the dark haired man.

"Did I stutter?" the general spoke silently, uncaringly, as if he had asked for the weather.

* * *

After the troops departed, Hux had nothing else to do than pace back and forth the main bridge, give out meaningless orders, and follow very scarce updates from the ground. As a commander, the knight was insufficient, careless, all in all non military. Had always been, which was the reason Hux never deployed him unless the order came from the highest command, which it ever so often did. The general's only hope was captain Phasma, who he knew would take care of the mission in proper order.

Finally, after almost an hour of ambiguous information and uncertainty, a communications technician came to him.

"General, they're heading back. Captain Phasma incoming"

"To my station", Hux commanded eagerly. A hologram of the captain appeared in front of him, her helmet on, stern and unwavering.

"General, we have an alteration", Phasma's voice was sharp, yet Hux sensed no dissatisfaction. The command must have come from Ren.

"Do tell me, captain,", Hux said, his lips straight, his clad hands pinned behind his back.

"We have a prisoner. A young man, not a local. We suspect he's with the resistance", Phasma explained.

"And do we have the object of interest?" Hux asked, already knowing the answer. If they would have got it, there would be no need for prisoners. He had to give it the benefit of doubt, though, considering the knight's actions rarely followed any established logic.

"No, sir, we don't have it", Phasma said.

Riled, Hux hit his fist on the desk of his station so hard the hologram shuddered for a moment. The captain seemed to not mind, however some officers jerked uncomfortably around him.

Hux thought of moment of letting Ren do the dirty laundry and sort this out, but the stakes were simply too high. He could not allow another reckless mistake. Slaughtering yet another resistance captive, especially one that could hold information so vital to their cause, was absolutely unacceptable.

"We must continue seeking, captain. _Do not_ let Ren to the prisoner."

* * *

The general had asked for a cup of sapir tea, a guilty pleasure, which he stately sipped as he moved towards the interrogation room, escorted by two troopers. Hux let the sweet taste linger for a while, let his frustration yield from the way of cold concentration. His senses had to be sharp, his hands stable, his mind resolute. Interrogation was not something just anyone could do.

Of course, anyone could press a few buttons, throw a few punches and scream for information. However the art of torture was something more delicate, something most had no natural ability conducting. A dance between the interrogator and the subject, a battle of both mind and body. There was no room for personal sentiment or malice, no time for pleasure.

"Morning", Hux greeted the prisoner in a casual manner as the doors opened. He sipped his tea while examining his strapped captive.

"Yeah, it'd be a lot easier to rise and shine without these-", the man fidgeted his arms, held tight from both wrists by the chair , "- restrictions."

"Amusing, mister-?" Hux stirred his tea and slowly took a few steps closer.

"Ain't gonna tell you!" the man hissed between his lips, his eyes wide, determined.

"A pilot, perhaps? You did try to fly a ship, didn't you?" Hux nodded at his weathered leather jacket.

"Did it look like I could fly the thing?" the man laughed in his face.

The general smiled thinly, his eyes dead. He laid his tea on the console desk. There were multiple buttons and switches, each of which could cause a different kind of pain. The general carefully brushed them as the rebel followed his hands.

"Scared, scum? You do realize you could save us and yourself a lot of trouble if you complied to negotiate." Hux stood up, sneering.

"Negotiate? Is that what you call this?" the man giggled timidly. "Besides, what will happen to me afterwards, huh? You gonna throw me to the garbage chute?" he would have spread his hands, but managed to only twitch his arms.

"There are worse things than dying", the general tilted his head. His sneer turned into a cruel smile and his pupils widened as he came closer to the strapped man, so close he was but a few inches away from his ear.

The man fidgeted, and Hux could almost feel his aphonic pleas. He spoke with a low voice so silent it was almost a whisper:

"That device you're strapped in can do horrible, marvelous things. I push one of those buttons and you'll lose whatever there is left of your mind. However, I will not use it. If you refuse to comply, once we find out who you are, I will make sure every single person you're associated with will suffer more than you ever could in that chair. Such a personal punishment requires a personal approach, don't you think?"

As he spoke, Hux gently swept the rebel's jawbone with his index finger, a technique of daunting tenderness he had polished over the years. The man squirmed nervously, but did not say a word. His black, curly hair was wet, his face flustered with determination and terror.

Suddenly, the general was taken aback by a thought so absurd, he could hardly keep his composed veneer. Although they possessed completely different features, the general's thoughts seemed to drift to Ren as he continued to caress the man's face. However, associating two similar situations was not what frightened him. What he realized was the subtle but vociferous difference between them.

_He took pleasure in it. He had felt appeased by the knight's skin, he had felt comfort in his breath._

"You enjoying yourself?" the rebel's voice was hoarse and tense, yet he tried to crack a smile.

"In fact I am", Hux moved closer, so close his face almost touched the rebel's cheek. He smelled like cigarettes and dirt. "You see, this is the easy part."

"Eh, do ya want me to ask what the hard part is?" the rebel gave a weak laugh and tried to tilt his head away from his tormentor.

Hux touched the man's left cheekbone with his lips, not quite kissing, but definitely not by accident either. "You have such a handsome face", his voice was made even colder by the pretentious affection. "Too bad I have to ruin it."

Hux's sharp fist slammed to the cheekbone he had just cherished, then to the one on the right. Again, and again, and again. The black leather gloves battered his skin, leaving red marks and blood where ever they hit. The rebel made unintentional cries as blood started pouring from his forehead, his eyes shut tight.

The general seized for a and let the man catch some air. They always thought there was hope, that it was the last one, that it was all over, and the stronger their desperation grew. Like fish in a glass bowl.

"You have a mother? A family? A nice village you grew up in, perhaps? You saw what my troops were capable of in Jakku." the general taunted him.

"I saw nothing but cowardice", the rebel spat in his direction. "My mom is dead, she died fighting people like you, my entire life has been about destroying you. Ya think I'd give up now? A few punches and a kiss is all you got?" his voice was hoarse and almost incomprehensibly weak, yet there was a thin, senseless smile on his lips.

"Thank you for your collaboration", Hux said, as casually as he had begun their pleasant conversation.

The man's eyes widened a little, but he didn't say anything. Blood was dripping from his forehead, his eyes were starting to go blurry.

Emotionless concentration was truly the basis of interrogation. When no confessions were needed, just strings of information were enough to map the entire picture. Of course, with the help of the Order's intelligence, a web the general himself had helped build.

He took his tea, sipped it and consciously restrained a sense of achievement from entering his mind. They'd still need more information, and unless the general was willing to ditch his more important duties for hours just to question the rebel, there was only one way to get it.

Lieutenant Mitaka and two troopers were waiting for him in the corridor.

"Lieutenant, contact intelligence and bring me everything we got on this man: A Resistance pilot, born around the time of the battle of Endor, mother died during the Civil War", Hux recited. "Oh, and if it matters, gay", he added.

"Yes, sir", the lieutenant seemed not to resent the general, which he marked down. Good leaders were not created from men inclined to petty reminiscence.

"And summon Ren." Hux said as vigorously as his sudden burst of inner degradation allowed him.


End file.
